The Girl in the Red Dress
by Alice Nicole
Summary: No. Not her. Anyone but her. Not only is the girl I love going to be slaughtered, and I am going with her. If it takes my life, I'll do anything I can to save hers.-- Hunger Games, Peeta's story.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One, The Beginning of the End**

It's the day of the reaping, and I haven't thought once about the safety of myself. All I can get through the buzzing that's filling my brain is the girl in the red dress. Katniss. I know that she has at least 5 slips of paper with her name in the reaping ball. Allthough I'm sure it's more. She's taken tesserae for every member of her family, her mother, her sister, who's name is Primrose, and herself, ever since she could. At twelve. Twenty. My mandatory five doesn't even come close to comparing. I have never had the need to take out tesserae. My family has always gotten along fine, eating the stale, leftover bread and pastries that no one else will buy.

My mother, father, brothers and I walk to the square in silence. Every year since my oldest brother turned twelve, we have taken this walk in silence. Before that, we didn't have anything to worry about, so we would talk occasionally. Not anymore. Now, don't get me wrong, we're not cold-hearted people who support the games and look forward to them every year. Mostly, it was because we were little, and didn't really have a clue what was going on. We are nothing like the Capitol's people. We will _never _be like them.

When we reach the square, I take my place with the sixteen year old boys. My brother goes into the area roped off for the ones who are eighteen. My mother, father, and oldest brother walk to their place in the crowd that is filing into the town square. Roughly five minutes later, while I am scanning the crowd, I catch sight of her. She is guiding her trembling sister into the section for the twelve-year-olds, and then she takes her place. She is my age, sixteen. I keep my eyes on her, afraid that if I look away, she will disappear. I'm being silly, of course, but it's always like this on reaping days. Anyone could be chosen as a tribute, though more than likely it will be someone like Katniss' friend, Gale, who must have his name in at least forty times. It doen't always happen like that, though. Occasionally, someone will be selected against all odds.

As the clock strikes two, the mayor steps onto the stage and begins to give a speech. It's the same every year, about the history of Panem, the rebellion, and why the Hunger Games were established. Once the mayor finishes, Haymitch Abernathy, District Twelve's only surviving winner of the Games, clambers onto the stage, obviously very drunk. Effie Trinket, the maniacly upbeat woman who comes to District Twelve every year to read the names of the tributes, sidesteps him, and practically bounces to the podium. She has pink hair and is wearing a green suit. She recites her siganture, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" I suddenly think of Katniss, and how the odds are _not_ in her favor. Not by a long shot.

"There are thousands of slips," I tell myself. It does no good. My heart is pounding wildly.

If I thought it was going wild now, it almost jumps out of my chest when Effie announces, "Ladies first!"

I am praying so hard that I don't even think when I hear the name, Primrose Everdeen, because I am so relieved that it is not Katniss. Then it hits me. Everdeen. Katniss' sister. Primrose's hands are clenched, walking slow, stiff steps up to the stage, where Effie Trinket stands, waiting. My eyes go immedietly to Katniss. She is standing, stunned, watching her sister. She suddenly stumbles, as though pushed, and calls out.

"Prim! Prim!" She cries. The crowd makes a path for her, and she catches Prim just as she is about to place her foot onto the steps and holds her fast, "I volunteer! I volunteer as a tribute!"

No. No. This can't be happening.

There is confusion. In District Twelve, we haven't had anyone volunteer to be a tribute in quite a while. Effie Trinket says, "Lovely! But I believe there's a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth, then we, um..." She trails off, unsure.

The mayor intervenes, "What does it matter?" he says with a pained look on his face. His daughter, Madge and Katniss are friends. They sit together at lunch, and it is commonly known that Katniss sells him strawberries. "What does it matter? Let her come forward," He repeats, more gruffly.

Prim is screaming at the top of her has wrapped her arms around Katniss, trying to pull her back. Katniss says harshly, "Prim, let go. Let go!" Then, Gale pulls Prim away from Katniss, and says something softly to Katniss. Katniss ascends the steps.

Effie Trinket asks Katniss' name, and when Katniss tells her, she says, "I bet my buttons that was your sister! Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we?" I hate her. I hate her and all her perkiness, and her complete and utter lack of consideration! She has no excuse for acting this way! Yes, maybe she is from the Capital, where they have parties every night and think that the Games are good fun and no one is in danger of starvation or having to go into the arena, but she must know from years of being an escort for District Twelve that we aren't like Districts one, two and three. We don't _like _having to kill people, and we _definetly _don't so that we'll have glory! We fight because we have to, and to stay alive!

Katniss doesn't reply, so she continues, "Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!"

I don't clap. Why would I? The girl that I love is going to be slaughtered. Then, I realize that no one is clapping. No one is making any noise at all. This makes me feel more proud to be from District Twelve than I have my entire life. Then, something unexpected happens. First one person, and then another, and finally, the whole crowd, touches their three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips, and raises them towards Katniss. I join in. It is a sign used rarely, mostly just at funerals, a sign of admiration or saying goodbye to someone you love. A tear runs down my face, but I brush it away quickly.

Suddenly, Haymitch has thrown his arm around Katniss, and is drunkenly shouting at the camera, ending the fiasco by plummetting headfirst off the stage. Effie Trinket quickly takes control of the situation as Haymitch is carried out on a strecher, saying, "What an exciting day! But more excitment to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!"

Before I have time to even form a coherent thought, she trots across the stage and pulls out the first name she touches. I hear her call out the name. Peeta Mellark. It doesn't register at first. Then, I realize. Peeta Mellark. That's me. I make my way up onto stage, trying to force my face to remain emotionless, although I'm sure my eyes gave me away. Once I reach her, Effie asks for volunteers. No one comes forward. I'm not surprised. Family devotion only goes so far on reaping days. What Katniss did is practically unheard of. The mayor steps back up to the podium and reads the Treaty of Treason. Then Katniss and I have to shake hands. This may be the last time I ever get to touch her, so I try to memorize the way her hand feels in mine. I give her a reassuring squeeze, and let go.

**Thank you all a million Draco Malfoys for reading! Keep checking back, I'll have a new chapter up soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey everyone! I've decided not to cut out any of the scenes with both Katniss and Peeta. Although you've all heard the story from Katniss' point of view, Peeta's has never been expressed. So, I'll try not to make it boring for those of you who know the whole book by heart. Enjoy!**

*******

**Chapter Two, Meeting the Mentor**

After the reaping ceremony is over, Katniss and I are led to the Justice Building. Here, we will have one hour to say goodbye to our family and friends. We are in seperate rooms, so I have no idea who is visiting her. My mother, father, and brothers come. They stay for only a short period of time, the fact that I will most likely be dead within the next few weeks weighing on them. My mother remains stony-faced and unresponsive, not even a hint of sadness shining through. She may just be trying to hold it in, but I don't think so. My father, on the other hand, tells me that he believes in me, and to give it all I've got. My brothers give me pointers about combat-- All things they've seen on television, because neither of them have ever been in a real fight.

As they're leaving, my mother finally comes out of her steely silence to say, "Maybe District Twelve will finally have a winner." At first I think she's talking about me, and I am surprised to hear anything positive towards me come out of my mother's mouth. But then she goes on, "She's a survivor, that one." She's talking about Katniss. And i'm not surprised. She's right. Katniss is strong, and my father always comments about how her arrows always pierce the squirrels that he purchases from her right through the eye. If it came down to it, she would beat me.

My family leaves, all except for my father. He is the only one I've told about how much I'm in love with Katniss. He understands, because he was in love with her mother, and still is. He sits down on the couch and looks me in the eye. "Peeta, I'm so sorry." And then he hugs me. He doesn't say anymore, but he doesn't have to. He is apologizing for a whole lot more than me having to participate in these games. He is sorry for the way my mother really doesn't care wether I live or die, he is apologizing for me never getting to live my life completly before it ends, and finally, for the hideous situation I'm in with Katniss.

He gets up, a tear runs down his face, and without a backward glance, he leaves.

Katniss. _Katniss. _What am I going to do? One or both of us is doomed to die. That's how it is. Twenty-four tributes. One winner. One survivor. My hour is not up, but no one else comes to say good bye to me. Good thing, too, because for the rest of the hour, I cry.

***

When Katniss and I are led onto the train, the weeping still has not stopped. I don't try to hide it, because, at this point, who cares? There are cameras all around, but once we get onto the train, there are none. On the train, we are brought to our rooms, to dress for dinner. Effie tells me to be ready in an hour, and that I can wear anything I want. By this time, I have composed myself by just pushing the whole situation out of my mind. I look into the drawers, and find that they are filled with expensive clothes. I grab the first things my hands touch, a dark blue shirt and black pants. I go into the bathroom, shower and dress. I still have time, so I decide to have a look around.

I make my way down the corridor, and find that there are five more doors in this hallway. I assume that three belong to Katniss, Haymitch, and Effie Trinket, and come to the conclusion that the other two belong to mine and Katniss' stylists. I don't know what time it is, and I don't want to get scolded by Effie for being late, so I wander around the train for a bit trying to find the Dining Room. I see Haymitch along the way, who tells me, quite possibly more drunk than the last time I saw him, that he was going to his room to take a nap. I find the dining room, but it's empty. I sit down at the table and wait for Katniss and Effie.

Apparently I was very early for supper, because I have to wait for a while for Effie and Katniss. They come in, and sit down. Effie asks me where Haymitch is, and I can't blame her for brightening considerably when I tell her that he went to take a nap and most likely, judging from the state he was in, won't be joining us.

She makes small talk throughout the meal, but Katniss and I are too busy gorging ourselves on all the delicious food to notice. By the time our meal is over, Katniss and I are both looking a little green. Neither of us are used to such rich food. We make our way to a compartment with a television to see a recap of the reapings. Today, all over Panem, one boy and one girl were chosen from each district to compete in the Games. This recap is a mandatory viewing for all of Panem. It gives the other tributes a look at who they're up against, and the Districts a look at who they'll be watching die over the next few weeks.

A few tributes stand out to me. A blonde girl form District One, a giant boy who volunteers from District Two, a boy with a crippled foot from Ten, and both from Eleven. The girl has to be at least twelve, though she looks much younger. It's always sad when a twelve year old get chosen. They usually have the least chance of survival. The boy is almost as big as the one from Two, and just as tough-looking. I would think he was a career, if he wasn't from District Eleven. Lastly, they show District Twelve. Katniss running to save Prim, the silent salute, Haymitch falling off the stage, and then me. The anthem plays, and the screen goes dark.

"Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behavior." Effie Trinket says, disgruntledly.

I laugh, trying to lighten the mood, " He was drunk," I say. "He's drunk every year."

Katniss smirks and adds, "Every day."

Effie suddenly looks like a snake ready to attack, "Yes. How odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!" She hisses through clenched teeth. I see through it. She isn't concerned about us, she only wants to finally get a decent pair of tributes and a mentor that cares enough to help us so that she has a chance to be bumped up to one of the Districts that win more often than Twelve... That's any of them.

As if it wasn't bad enough already, Haymitch chose that moment to clamber into the compartment. He asks in a slurred voice if he missed supper, vomits all over the floor and colapses into it.

"So laugh away!" says Effie as she flees the room.

***

A short while later, Katniss and I arrive at Haymitch's room, half-carrying and half-guiding Haymitch. "I'll take it from here," I say. She looks grateful, and offers to send one of the Capitol people to help, but I decline the offer. I bring him into the bathroom and turn the on the water. I strip off his clothes, and help him inside. After bathing him, I put his bedclothes on him and help him into bed. He falls asleep immedietly, and begins to snore. He's going to have a nasty hangover in the morning.

I make my way back to my room, shower, and get into bed. I lay there for quite some time, not able to fall asleep. We'll be in the Capitol tomorrow. I think of Katniss, and it's her that is in my dreams, as well. They're not good dreams, this time, like the ones I usually have of her. They're haunting, always of her dying in some gruesome way, and in one, I kill her. I wake up with a start. It's pitch dark, sometime in the middle of the night. I resolve that what happened in my dreams will never happen in the arena. If it takes my life, I will do whatever I can to keep the girl in the red dress alive.

I fall asleep again, and now, my dreams are haunted with my death.

**Thanks a million seventeen thousand four hundred and 9.8 Draco Malfoys! **

**Please review! Reviewing makes me write faster! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey everyone! Hope you enjoy the next chapter! I love you all! I probably won't be able to update for a week or two, because it's getting to be crunch time for my musicals! I have rehersal every single day for the next three weeks! I'll try as hard as I can, though! Regardless, I'll need to get up to at least 20 reviews before I post again!**

*******

When I wake up, I am afraid to open my eyes. Afraid that somewhere, maybe close by, Katniss is dying. Or dead already. I gather my courage, and open my eyes. I find that there was nothing to be afraid of. Katniss is safe somewhere on this train full of phony happiness. It's morning. There's grey light leaking through the spaces on the window that the curtains don't cover. I clamber out of bed and dress in the same clothes I wore yesterday. No use in wasting clothes that aren't really dirty. Now that I know where it is, it doesn't take me long to find the dining room. I get there and I see Haymitch nursing his hangover with-- surprise, surprise-- more alcohol. He is drinking a red juice, but adding more and more of some kind of clear, strong-smelling liquid to it with every gulp.

I see Effie, sitting in silence, obviously still flustered by the way Haymitch acted at the reaping and after the recaps last night. Haymitch looks up at me and says, "Hope I didn't smell too bad last night." He chuckles like it's some sort of private joke between us, and goes on drinking. Effie looks confused, and gets up with her coffee and exits the room. Katniss walks in. She sits down at the request of Haymitch, and is immedietly overcome by various servers offering her food and drinks. She looks at a cup of hot chocolate, not knowing what it is.

"They call it hot chocolate," I say to her. "It's good."

She considers for a moment and once she decides to trust me, she takes a sip. After that, she ignores all of the other food and drinks until all of the hot chocolate is drained from her cup. Suddenly she says to Haymitch, "So, you're supposed to give us advice."

He looks up at her and says, "Here's some advice. Stay alive." He laughs.

How can he laugh? That makes me so angry. How am I supposed to keep Katniss alive if our mentor is a drunken idiot who has never been sober a day in his life!? "That's very funny," I say. I lash out at Haymitch's glass, knocking it to the floor where it shatters. "Only not to us." He stops for a moment, and I think he may be considering that I'm right, but no. A second later, I am knocked on to the floor. He has punched me. I look up in time to see Katniss' knife narrowly miss Haymitch's hand. I know I can't get to Katniss in time to save her from the blow that is bound to come, so I look away, not wanting to see it. But it doesn't. Haymitch sits back in his chair and scrutinizes us.

"Well, what's this?" He says, finally, "Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?" I rise and start to put ice on the swelling that I know is now clearly visible on my face, but Haymich stops me, "No." He says, "Let the bruise show. The audience will think you've mixed it up with another tribute before you've even made it to the arena." That's againt the rules. Everyone knows that. I tell Haymitch, but he just shrugs it off and says, "Only if they catch you. That bruise will say you fought, you weren't caught, even better." Then he turns to Katniss, "Can you hit anything with that knife besides the table?"

Katniss pauses for a moment, yanks the knife out of the table, and then throws it into the wall. It not only sticks, but actually lodges itself between two panels. Wow. I knew the could shoot, but I never knew that she was that accurate with a knife, as well.

"Stand over here. Both of you." says Haymitch, and we oblige. He circles us, analyzing and poking and prodding us. "Well, you're not entirely hopeless," he says. "Seem fit. And once the stylists get hold of you, you'll be attractive enough." He pauses. "All right, I'll make a deal with you. You don't interfere with my drinking, and I'll stay sober enough to help you. But you have to do exactly what I say."

I glance over at Katniss. It's not the greatest deal I ever made, but it's the best we're going to get, so I say, "Fine."

Katniss cuts in and says, "So help us. When we get to the arena, what's the best strategy at the Cornucopia for someone-"

"One thing at a time," Haymitch interrupts, "In a few minutes, we'll be pulling into the 'll be put in the hands of your stylists. You're not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what, don't resist."

"But-" Katniss says.

"No buts. Don't resist," warns Haymitch as he laves, taking his alcohol with him. It's suddenly very dark. We're going through a tunnel. Katniss and I stand there in the dark, everything silent except for the train's roar, until we arrive at the capitol. Then, we can't help ourselves. We race to the window to get a look at what we've only ever seen on television.

The Capitol. It's an array of bright colors and wild-looking people. Their faces are painted, and their hair is every color of the rainbow. Once the people going by find out that this is a tribute train, they start pointing. I wave and smile to them. Katniss retreats, and looks at me with confusion. I shrug and say simply, "Who knows? One of them may be rich."

**Hello, readers! **

**Thanks an infinite amount of Draco Malfoys! I'll be waiting for those reviews!**

**P.S.--My friend and I are thinking about writing a Harry Potter fanfiction and possibly a Cinna one, too!! So keep an eye out!**

**P.S.S.-- If you are into Harry Potter jump on YouTube and look at "A Very Potter Musical"! It's a parody show that my friend and I discovered a few months ago, and it's fantastic! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello, kind readers! I'm so sorry it's been so long! Enjoy!**

***

My face is burning. It feels like all the molecules in my pores are shriveling up and dying. Venia, a capitol woman who is helping make me presentable, is smearing a paste on my face, wiping it off, and then putting more on. She must've done this about twenty times now. When I asked about it, Flavius, another member of my prep team, told me that this torture device will keep the hair on my face from growing while I'm in the arena.

Flavius is snipping away at my hair. They have just come from tending to Katniss, who will be meeting with her stylist right about now. Apparently, my stylist, Portia, doesn't have any intrest in seeing me until the prep team is finished with me. I hate what they're doing to me, because I was fine with how I looked before, but I kept my bargain with Haymitch and didn't object, even when Octavia, the final member of the prep team, was buffing and filing my nails. They decide that I'm presentable, and run out of the room to fetch Portia. I wasn't given a robe to wear, so I'm suck sitting on the table, stark-naked.

She's very attractive. I'm surprised. Many of the capitol people are altered and wildly tattooed, but not Portia. She's a brunette with dark brown eyes and pale skin. She wears mascara and grey eyeliner, but that's all. Suddenly, I wish I had a robe.

"Hello, Peeta. I'm Portia, your stylist. Will you please stand up for me?" She asks in a pretty voice that reminds me of a wind chime. I hesitate, but obey. She walks slow circles around me and looks me up and down. She hands me the robe that is folded over her arm, "Here. Put this on." She sits, and I follow suit. "I'm new this year, so you haven't seen any of mine or Katniss' stylist, Cinna's, designs, so I'm going to ask you to trust me on this one."

"Okay." I say tentitavly. In the past, there have been outrageous costumes for all of the districts, but every year, District Twelve always gets stuck with the worst. None of the stylists really know what to do when they're given the task of outfitting the District that deals with coal, so we almost always end up in skimpy miner's outfits. One year the District Twelve tributes were naked all except for a layer of coal dust.

***

A few hours later, Portia is helping me into my costume for the opening ceremonies. I am in a simple black unitard, wearing a cape and a headpiece. Portia walks over to me, "Okay, so Peeta, your costume is going to signify burning coal. Your head piece and cape will be lit on fire. Now, don't worry, it's only a synthetic fire, so there's no chance of it burning anyone or anything." I nod my head. I don't know what else to do. I don't like the idea. What if something goes wrong, and Katniss or I go up in flames?

"Alright. Cinna will come and light your capes when the ceremony begins." I grit my teeth, because just thinking about it irks me. I see Katniss and walk over to her. Cinna and Portia direct our body positions and move away to get a look from farther back.

We clamber onto the carriage. We are in what appers to be a stable, on a carriage led by four black horses. "What do you think?" Katniss whispers, "About the fire?"

"I'll rip off your cape if you rip off mine," I say, my teeth still gritted.

"Deal," She agrees. "I know we promised Haymitch we'd do exactly what they said, but I don't think he considered this angle."

I glance around, trying to spot him. When I don't, I say, "Where is Haymitch, anyway? Isn't he supposed to protect us from this sort of thing?"

She grins and says, "With all that alcohol in him, it's probably not advisable to have him around an open flame."

I burst out laughing, and she follows suit. We stop once we hear the opening music and see Cinna coming towards us. He climbs up. I squeeze my eyes shut. I am expecting to go up in flames, but I feel none of the flame's heat, only a tickling sensation. Cinna sighs in relief, "It works," He says. He puts a hand under Katniss' chin, and says, "Remember, heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you!"

I look at Katniss and am taken aback by how beautiful she looks. Her cape and headpiece are both glowing brightly. She looks magical. The synthetic fire's light hits her face in all the right places, and her hair, braided down her back, seems to glow. "What's he saying?" She asks me, nodding towards Cinna. He makes a gesture saying for us to hold hands.

"I think he said for us to hold hands," I say. I grab her right hand, and look to Cinna for confirmation. He nods and gives us the thumbs up and then, we exit the stable, and enter the Capitol.

We are met by a wave of shock followed by cheers of approval. Katniss and I seem to be leaving a trail of fire in our wake. Katniss clutches my hand and waves to the crowd. I follow suit. Katniss continues to wave and blow kisses. She's being more charming than I've ever seen her. Everyone loves her. I suddenly realize that I really don't want to be here. And not the normal, like you'd expect from a person in my situation, but an I'd-do-absolutly-anything-to-get-out-of-here-right-now-and-if-I-don't-I-think-I-may-pass-out type of thing. I squeeze Katniss' hand for dear life, and bear it. I focus on watching Katniss. She's a natural at this.

I love the feel of her hand in mine, and I pray that some miracle will happen, and this will happen again. Who knows? Maybe she loves me, too, but is too shy to tell me. Just like I am. I don't want to ever let go.

We get back to the stable and Cinna and Portia put out our capes and headdresses with some kind of spray from a can. Katniss lets go of my hand, and I realize that it has cramped. I rub it to get some feeling back into it, and turn to her, "Thanks for keeping hold of me. I was getting a little shaky there."

"It didn't show. I'm sure no one noticed," she replies.

"I'm sure they didn't notice anything but you. You should wear flames more often. They suit you." I smile at her in a way that I hope dosn't come off as big headed or needy. I want to tell her how I feel, but for now, I just have to settle with subtle, or not-so-subtle, compliments.

To my surprise, she kisses me on the cheek.

I make my way back to my room in a daze and fall asleep with a smile on my face.

**Thank you four hundred seventy-three Draco malfoys! **

**Please review! I allow reviews without an account, so anyone can review! I've gotten over 750 hits, and only 23 people have been kind enough to review! No, less. One person has reviewed multiple times!**

**So...**

**Thanks an extra 679 Draco Malfoys to MoonNRoses for reviewing three times! And MoonNRoses, please update soon! It's a really great story!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello, my lovelies! Here's Chapter 5, I hope you enjoy! It's the longest one yet, and it's just for you!**

The next day, I get up to wash. I see that there are knobs everywhere, and I haven't the slightest clue what they all do, so I decide not to chance it, hoping that someone will tell me. I make my way to breakfast, hoping Katniss will be there, but she isn't. Though her stylist, Cinna, is.

"Hello Cinna." I say, "Those costumes last night sure helped us to get noticed."

Cinna replies, "Thank you, Peeta. I think." He laughs, and goes on, "Portia and I spent long hours staring at fires to make that one possible."

Throughout the rest of breakfast, we make pleasant conversation. Then he says, "Would you like to see the roof? It's quite beautiful up there, you can see for miles."

I agree, and we start down a long hallway. We are on the top floor, so there's no need to take an elevator. As we're walking, he says, "It's also a great place to go to get away from everything. I can't even imagine how it must feel to be in your position, but I came up here all the time when Portia and I just couldn't get the fire right. It helped me calm down."

"Thank you, Cinna." He's right. He can't even imagine how it would feel. He's from the capitol, where they don't have a care in the world. He doesn't even know half, and he still couldn't imagine it.

We walk up a short flight of stairs and out of a door. I can't believe my eyes. I can see everything! Everything! I see the city limits on one side, with the trains pulling in and out. I gaze wistfully towards it, and think of home. I walk towards the edge. If I fell, or jumped, I would die. That would be a better fate than the Arena. My thoughts suddenly jerk towards Katniss. If I die now, I won't be able to save her. I back away, towards Cinna. "Why do they let us come up here? Aren't they afraid someone will jump?"

He shakes his head sadly and says, "No. You can't." He walks over to the garden that's on the far side of the roof, picks up a rock, and tosses it towards the edge. It shoots back towards us, and narrowly misses my head. "They knew someone would try to, so they made sure you couldn't."

"There's no escape," I whisper.

He makes his way back to the through the door, leaving me alone on the roof. I stare out towards the hills that lead, eventually, to District Twelve. The roof is wonderful. The wind feels like it could just lift me up and carry me away. I feel free. But I'm not. That force field is keeping me here, trapped. I shudder, and let my mind wander to more pleasant things. I stay up on the roof all day, enjoying the feeling of being up here, no one else bothering me. Though, I wish Katniss were here.

***

As the sun starts to set, I decide that it's time to leave the roof. On the way back, I see a frantic Effie scurrying around. She tells me off for disappearing, and requests for me to be ready for dinner in a half an hour. I go back to my quarters and shower. I dress in a clean white button-down shirt and black slacks. I get to dinner and see Cinna and Portia standing on a balcony. I go over to join them, and we look out on the Capitol together.

Katniss, Effie, and Haymitch arrive, and we make our way to the table. A waiter offers us wine, but I decline. I'm too busy staring at Katniss to think about drinking. She is dressed in simple clothes, nothing fancy, but the color makes her gray eyes pop. She looks beautiful. Katniss obliges the waiter when he offers her wine, and tastes it. She wrinkles her nose, and I stifle a laugh.

We all talk and enjoy the food throughout dinner. I'm surprised to see Effie and Haymitch talking like civilized human beings. Haymitch is drinking, but he has only gone through two glasses of wine when desert is brought out. It is a cake that's on fire. At first, I am alarmed, thinking that something has gone wrong, and we are about to burn down the building, but then, it stops.

Katniss inquires, "What makes it burn? Is it alcohol? That's the last thing I wa--" She cuts off, but then continues, "Oh! I know you!" She stares at the girl for a long while. The girl shakes her head and hurries away.

Cinna, Portia, Haymitch, and Effie are all staring at Katniss. This confuses me a bit. I'm sure Katniss doesn't know this girl, because I know everyone in District Twelve, and I've never seen her. But still, why are they all staring at her that way? Like she's a child who's done something bad.

Effie is the first to speak, "Don't be ridiculous, Katniss. How could you possibly know an Avox? The very thought." She huffs.

Then Katniss wonders aloud what I'm wondering in my head. "What's an Avox?" She says.

Haymitch answers, "Someone who comitted a crime. They cut her tongue so she can't speak. She's probably a traitor of some sort. Not likely you'd know her."

Effie adds, " And even if you did, you're not to speak to one of them unless it's to give an order. Of course, you don't really know her."

"No, I guess not, I just-" Katniss studders.

But she doesn't look convinced. I can tell that she's trying to figure out where in the world she'd seen this girl. I realize that I have to cover for her. I snap my fingers, trying to be as convincing of an actor as possible, although the extent of my training is the school play about coal in Kindergarden, "Delly Cartwright. That's who it is. I kept thinking she looked familiar as well. Then I realized she's a dead ringer for Delly." Delly Cartwright? Where did that come from? This girl is about as far away from Delly Cartwright as I am!

_Please, Katniss, Please. _I think. _Just take it. It's the best I can do!_

Katniss continues to look baffled for another second or two, and then a look of realization comes over her face. I know that she is recognising my ploy, but I hope that the others think that it is simply her realizing where she's seen this girl before. "Of course, that's who I was thinking of." She says with a grateful look, "It must be the hair."

"Something about the eyes, too." I add.

They buy it. "Oh, well. If that's all it is." Cinna says, relieved, "And yes, the cake has spirits, but all the alcohol has burned off. I ordered it specially in honor of your firey debut." The whole table seems to let out a breath, and we all relax again, eating the delicious food.

We finish, and make our way to a room with a large television. We watch a replay of the opening ceremonies and discuss the other pairs. Whe Katniss and I come on screen, everyone lets out an apreciative "Ahh!".

Haymitch inquires, "Who's idea was the hand holding?"

Portia replies, "Cinna's."

"Just the perfect touch of rebellion. Very nice," Applauds Haymitch.

I guess he's right. Everyone expects us to be enemies, but the truth is, we're not. Well, we're not best friends either, but we don't sit stiffly side-by-side plotting the other person's death like the other teams.

Haymitch says to Katniss and I, "Tomorrow morning is the first training session. Meet me for breakfast and I'll tell you exactly how I want you to play it. Now go get some sleep while the grown-ups talk."

We exit together, and I stop in front of Katniss, wanting an explanation. I had been wondering about her Avox friend ever since dinner, and my curiosity is peaking. "So, Delly Cartwright. Imagine finding her lookalike here." I raise my eyebrows inquiringly. I can see that she's contemplating me, and I jump at the chance. "Have you been on the roof yet?" She shakes her head. "Cinna showed me. You can practically see the whole city. The wind's a bit loud, though." I can tell that she know's what I'm implying. That we can talk and not be overheard.

"Can we just go up?" she asks.

"Sure, come on." I say.

I lead her up, and when we reach the top, I can tell that she's in awe. I know why. It's beautiful up here. Almost as beautiful as her. We walk to the edge where we're "protected" by the railing. "I asked Cinna why they just let us up here. Weren't they worried that some of the tributes might decide to jump right over the side?"

"What did he say?"

"You can't." I stick my hand out, not knowing what would happen. I know that it won't harm me, because they wouldn't want us crippled just days before we enter the arena. I feel a zap, a bit like I assume being electricuted would feel, but only in my hand. It fades quickly. "Some kind of electrical field throws you back on the roof," I conclude.

"Always worried about our safety," She says sarcastically. I love her sense of humor. I smile to myself, thinking about how life would be if this stupid game didn't exist. Maybe she would fall in love with me, too. We could get married and have children. I start to daydream, but she jerks me back to the reality of the situation, saying, "Do you think they're watching us now?"

"Maybe," I say, "Come see the garden." It's windy over here. So much that even if they do have cameras and recorders, they will most likely not be able to hear us. I turn to look at her, waiting.

She pretends to examine a flower and starts, "We were hunting in the woods one day. Hidden, waiting for game."

"You and your father?" I ask. If it was, this was a while back. What is so terrible that she still hasn't forgiven herself for?

"No, my friend Gale." She replies. Ah. So it could be fairly recent. And her friend Gale. Huh. Don't get me started on him. I always see them together. It makes me feel, well, jealous. I don't like to think about them, together. She continues, "Suddenly all the birds stopped singing at once. Except one. As if it were giving a warning call. And then we saw her. I'm sure it was the same girl," She looks distressed, but goes on, "A boy was with her. Their clothes were tattered. They had dark circles under their eyes from no sleep. They were running as if their lives depended on it."

She goes silent, and I know that it pains her to talk about this, in the same way that it pains me to think of her and Gale. She takes a deep breath, and returns to her story, "The hovercraft appeared out of nowhere. I mean, one moment the sky was empty, and the next it was there. It didn't make a sound, but they saw it. A net dropped down on the girl and carried her up, fast, so fast like the elevator. They shot some sort of spear through the boy. It was attached to a cable and they hauled him up as well. But I'm certain he was dead. We heard the girl scream once. The boy's name, I think. Then it was gone, the hovercraft. Vanished into thin air. And the birds began to sing again, as if nothing had happened."

She ends her story there. "Did they see you?" I ask.

Katniss replies, "I don't know. We were under a shelf of rock."

At least she probably hadn't been seen. At least the girl didn't know that Katniss could've saved her, but didn't. It was a good choice, though. More than likely, Katniss and Gale would've been caught, as well, and suffered the same fate as the Avox girl. I notice that Katniss is shaking, half like she's cold, and half as if she's had the scare of her life. "You're shivering," I say, and begin to remove my jacket, planning to put it on her. She recoils at first, but then takes it gratefully. I secure the top button, and ask, "They were from here?"

She nods. I'm still curious, though. "Where do you suppose they were going?" I inquire.

"I don't know that," she says, a trace of sadness in her voice, "Or why they would leave here."

"I would leave here," I burst out, quite loudly. I glance around, hoping they didn't hear me. Hopefully I just sound like a scared tribute. But it's true. I hate it here. Just like the train that took us here, this place is full of fake cheeriness, all of the death and destruction masked by the layer of make-up they all pile on their faces. I try to cover for myself, though, in case they _are _listening, "I'd go home now if they let me. But you have to admit, the food's prime." When she doesn't respond, I say, "It's getting chilly. We better go in."

We step inside the dome and make our way back downstairs. I decide to take this opportunity to ask her about Gale. "Your friend 's the one who took your sister away at the reaping?"

"Yes. Do you know him?" She asks in return.

"Not really. I hear the girls talk about him a lot." I hope, or maybe I don't, that this will push her to tell me that she and Gale are more than friends. She doesn't, so I continue, relieved, " I thought he was your cousin or something. You favor each other." I say, in another attempt.

"No, we're not related." She says.

Huh. I don't like that answer too much. I either means that they are, but she doesn't want to tell me, or that they might be close to dating, but it's not official. Either way, the answer pains me. I nod, and wipe my face clean of emotion."Did he come to say goodbye to you?" I ask, digging for clues.

"Yes," she says, scrutinizing me, "So did your father. He brought me cookies."

I raise my eyebrows, surprised. I didn't know that. I guess it makes sense. The daughter of the woman he loves and the girl I love is going to the Capitol to die alongside his son. He wanted to show Katniss a bit of kindness before she died. No. I can't think like that! She will not die. I refuse to let that happen. I play up the surprise, saying, "Really? Well, he likes you and your sister. I think he wishes he had a daughter instead of a houseful of boys."

This has come up before. He always says that he wishes he had a daughter, and right after, he makes a comment about Katniss or Primrose, saying how well behaved they seem. I know it runs deeper than this. He wishes they were _his_. That _he'd_ married Katniss' mother. He wouldn't give my brothers and I up for anything, but still, he's allowed to wish.

She doesn't say anything, so I mention, "He knew your mother when they were kids."

She looks surprised at this, and says, realizing, "Oh, yes. She grew up in town." We continue to walk and when we reach her door, and she turns. She strips my jacket off, and hands it to me, saying, " See you in the morning then."

I say, "See you," and walk down the long hallway to my room. I open the door, and not feeling tired at all, decide that it's time to try some of the knobs on the wall. I strip and climb into what I take to be a shower, never having seen one myself.

I start by pressing a purple button, and a jet of warm water shoots me right in the eye. My eye streaming, I blindly jab at a few more, and eventually get it to a temperature I like. I see no soap, so I assume that comes from a button, too. The first button ends up being a thick soap that smells strongly of flowers. After encountering a wide range of smells and textures, I eventually settle for a light, piney scent, since I can't seem to find any regularly scented soap.

I hop out and wrap myself in a fluffly towel. I search through the drawers until I find some soft blue draw-string pyjama pants. I climb into the bed and lay there for a while, thinking about my family, not Katniss for once. I wish they were here right now. Specifically my father. I needed someone to talk to, someone I could confide in. The truth is, I've never been more frightened in my life. I want to save Katniss, but truth be told, I don't want to die, either. I know I will, though. That's already decided. I love her more that anything, and I can't stand to be in, or not be in, a world without her. As I drift off to sleep, I begin to formulate a plan.

***

**Well, there you go! I hope you liked it, and please review, review, review!**

**I love you, and thanks a million purple rainbows! **


	6. Author's Note

**Author's Note:**

**As you've probably noticed, I've changed my name. It is now my real first and middle name so I'll be more easily recognizable. My new FF URL is: .net/~alicenicole. I've not wrote any other stories **_**yet, **_**but I'm hoping to possibly do a one-shot for Cinna and/or Madge, a Harry Potter story, or another story like this, only from Cinna's point of view. Maybe, eventually, I'll get all three done! I may attempt them in the near future, but right now, I'm focusing on this story and pulling up my Geometry grade. : ) Again, thank you so much! **


End file.
